#also this is not permission to be rude to anyone

[screams-in-writing]

Fluff snippets again *yeets pillows at Mr. Puzzles with aggressive affection*

I’ve found I really like to write these, so here’s three more of them (1st is more of a one-shot):

16- needing their cuddles even though they have something else to do (1st pov)

I was about to break my promise to not drag Smg4 (or his crew) into another wonderfully wacky Puzzlevision adventure.

But oh, was I so very, very tempted to do it and face the consequences, but I held back such urges, knowing that such actions would more than likely ruin any progress I had made thus far. Any non-consenting participants in a show in my mind would surely not only upset you a great deal but would also destroy the tentative peace I’d made with Smg4 in particular. 

I knew I was on thin ice, and that everything I did was scrutinized with great prejudice. 

It chaffed, but I knew that such over the top precautions were a direct result of my previous actions, direct or by proxy. 

But one thing that I did not take well to was being told my ideas or plans were terrible and/or unoriginal. It took a lot of self-control I didn’t always have to be able to prevent myself from instantly lashing out in return. 

Calm. 

I had to be calm. 

I couldn’t let this latest…disagreement force me to break my promises. 

With great reluctance, I tuned back in to Smg4’s words as he lambasted me for the changes I’d made late last night to an episode script that, in my opinion, desperately needed it. 

Smg4 should be thanking me!

Why, I took time out of my day to help him when I didn’t have to! 

I was an expert on moving pictures! 

Why wouldn’t he value such feedback from one such as me, to help his ‘funny’ reach a wider audience!

…perhaps it shouldn’t have been made so last minute but I’d not heard of it being made until last night!

“I never told you that you could just change my episode plans!”

“Smg4?” At that, I finally cut in as smooth as could be. Seeing the unamused glare, I straighten by bow tie, acting as if I hadn’t just been practically scolded for the past ten minutes. “I believe that I made your episode’s script flow better for everyone involved. If it hadn’t been clear that those changes were needed, I wouldn’t have even bothered.”

“I also never gave you permission to even look at my episode scripts!” Smg4 shot back in exasperation. “What made to think you could just go on my office to snoop around in the first place?”

I was again distracted from listening to Smg4 when I saw that you, Boopkins and Tari gad just entered the castle. 

There. 

My possible escape from making another mistake that would more than likely ruin any credibility I had left, as well as completely shatter the minimal trust I’d since gained with Smg4 and his crew. 

With a swift motion, I ran away from Smg4 and  swooped in on you for a hug the moment the castle doors shut. 

“Whoa!” You laughed at my sudden, rather desperate need for a hug from you, and laughed even more as I was quick to bring you down to the floor with me. “Hello to you too.”

I wrapped my arms around you and even tangled our legs together, making my intention to begin an impromptu snuggling session right here on the floor in full view of anyone clear.

“Oh no you don’t!” Smg4 stomped over, waving the papers in his hand, exasperated. “Fix this script right now! Put it back to the way it was.”

“No.” I said simply in return, pressing my face into your shoulder to enjoy the static buildup from your clothing. “I refuse to get rid of an obvious improvement that you just refuse to see! It’s art! How can you not see that?”

Smg4 began to toss random items at me while Boopkins and Tari made themselves scarce to avoid getting drawn into the drama. 

How rude. 

Smg4 had to have seen that you were down on the floor with me, but seemed focused on getting me to ‘unfix’ his episode script. 

I covered you with my body to prevent anything from hitting you. In return, things bounced off the back of my head and upper back, to which I grumbled crossly at. It didn’t so much hurt as it was an irritant (and the flying projectiles did mean possible harm to you if I allowed anything to pass.

However, it had merely been a distraction as the arisen assault of pillows and other items gave way to Smg4 speaking in an eerily calm tone. 

“Mario, Mr. Puzzles took out the plate of spaghetti in an upcoming script and won’t change it back.”

The words made me freeze in place while you paused, then gave me what felt like a ‘sympathetic’ pat on the back.

Oh no.

“Give me back my spaghetti tv man!” Mario came out of nowhere to seize me by the ankles. 

I automatically clung to you in an effort to avoid being taken from you. But it was a useless endeavor with Mario involved, and you picking up on what was going on, which led you to letting go of me after patiently prying my arms off from the panicked hug I’d had you in. There was a brief look of betrayal on my face before it flickered into one of pleading desperation as I scrabbled my fingers into the floor beneath me uselessly. 

“Did Smg4 ask you to make changes to my script?” You asked, making some gesture at Mario to (somehow) make him pause his efforts in dragging me backward. 

“It needed the changes.” I said stiffly. Seeing your expectant expression, my digital eyes looked off to the side, technicolor smile a frown. “No, he didn’t ask.”

“Puzzles? Do you remember what we talked about last week?” You questioned curiously. 

“I…yes.” There wasn’t any way to defend myself in this situation because I did recall what you were hinting at. “Yes, I do.”

“You promised that you’d not make any changes to other people’s scripts without running it by that person first.” You told me, clarifying the specific conversation we’d had, as there had been more than one important one held.

“I recall.” I agreed, though I didn’t say aloud that I believed I could have gotten away with such an action in this case. If only Smg4 could just be made to see that I was very good at what I did, and that he could benefit from me collaborating with him. Or at the very least, allowed me to make tiny changes here and there to make things flow better, in order to offset the stupidity that might end up happening. Not seeing any way out, I fixed you with the most pathetic, despairing digital face I could manage.

“Oh, such cruel fate.” I mournfully began before I said your name. “How can you sit there and allow this to happen to me? I thought you said you loved me.” I lamented as dramatically as I could, while I clung to the open door to prolong my exit. “Farewell, my dear. I forgive you for leaving me to a fate I brought upon myself. Remember me fondly when you watch television or a movie, as I fear I may not survive this terrible soon-to-be act of being forced into undoing all my beautifully done and very much necessary handiwork.” 

I made certain to keep my screen facing you in order to let you knew I was merely teasing, and not attempting to make you feel guilty in any way, shape or form. 

It seemed you understood when I peeked over to you. 

“It’s not going to take all day, Mr. Puzzles. It’s just an episode script. Not a movie.” Smg4 shoved one of Puzzles’ gloved hands off of the open office door. That would be a much bigger problem and-“ 

“About that…” I shoot a guilty look your way, and drop my gaze at your disappointment. “I may have…done an overhaul to the entire thing?” I shrink behind the open door, forgetting Mario still held me by the ankles. I partially closed the door myself at the blank look on Smg4’s expression as he slowly took out his phone and made a call while continuing to stare at me. 

Before I knew it, I had Mario dragging me back across the floor of the main area of the castle to its front doors, which had just opened. 

Smg3 was waiting there, looking disgruntled at being called away from his cafe, until he laid eyes on me and my pathetic attempts to scramble away. 

“What’s this all about, scrub?” Smg3 asked, somewhat dismissively, despite the eager look in his red eyes. “You finally kicking out the tv freak?”

Smg4 emerged from his office to wordlessly hold out a larger stack of papers.   

“What?” Smg3 scoffed at the lack of words but took the paper to look it over anyway. Then a little quicker as his expression went from feigned disinterest to exasperation as he glanced down at me. “Are you stupid?”

“Maybe more misguided.” You called from where you’d moved to peer out the doors as Mario just tugged me outside. 

I eagerly perked up at your defense of me, until you spoke again. 

“But if that’s a movie script and he made a lot of changes? Maybe foolish optimism.”

“Why do you betray me so?” I said your name in a dramatic fashion as I dug my fingers into the ground to try to prevent the inevitable. 

“You asked me for advice and you decided to not follow it.” You rightfully pointed out. 

I hung my head, unable to argue the point while I was dragged across the showgrounds to 3’s cafe to ‘fix’ my own changes to an episode script and a whole movie.

17- resting head in their lap (2nd pov)

After an exciting day, you were ready to wind down for the night. 

With a tired groan, you crashed hard on the sofa in the house you shared with Mr. Puzzles at the edge of the showgrounds. 

It wasn’t an hour later that Puzzles returned home too, presumably done with his own work for the day. 

The tv headed man paused alongside the sofa to lean over, a soft smile on his screen. He lightly ran his fingers through your hair with a barely audible greeting, before he reluctantly stepped away for a short time. 

The bedroom, most likely. 

When Mr. Puzzles reentered the living room, you find that your guess is right. The man had come back with a change of clothes; soft, rather sleek and elegant pants and an even softer-looking sweater.

You stared at him, then sleepily reached out with your arms, making grabby-hands at the tv headed man, whose face flickered to an amused, if still soft, expression.

You only realized Mr. Puzzles’ plan when he approached the sofa and held your stretched out arms by forearms to help you to sit upright. When you stared in a confused manner, Puzzles’ technicolor smile grew. Humming softly, he sat down on the sofa before he lowered you carefully down to settle your head on his lap. 

You were a-okay with this plan, sighing happily  as Mr. Puzzles as he began to gently thread his fingers through your hair and along your scalp. 

The sensation of his fingers felt different today. 

You belatedly realize that Puzzles had taken his gloves off at some point, likely when he’s gone to change clothes. 

It was nice. 

You liked the touch of his robotic fingers scritching along your head and through hair with soft metallic-sounding clicks. 

Maybe he needed to oil up the joints? Could Mr. Puzzles even do that with the covering he had over those robotic fingers? Had you just never heard the sound his fingers made with the gloves off?

Or maybe you were sleepier than you realized. 

You definitely were quick to snuggle closer to wrap your right arm around Mr Puzzles’ lower back. This way, you could press your face into the tv headed man’s belly, feeling it quiver with silent mirth.

But Mr. Puzzles didn’t say anything. He only chuckled lowly in presumable endearment of the sight of you as he resumed to pet  through your hair. After a time, he moved on to your shoulders, slid his fingers down your upper back to middle, then repeated the gesture, each gentle motion of his hand drawing you closer to slumber. 

“Pleasant dreams, my dear.” Mr. Puzzles’ petting eventually slowed to a halt to lightly rest his hand against the back of your neck. “I’ll be here when you wake.”

18- leaning against them (2nd pov)

You were very pleased to be able to be able to have a whole entire week of vacation time, and Mr. Puzzles had been beyond delighted .that you were going to spend six of the seven days in his word. 

But the delight finished a little, as you’d had to make certain Puzzles understood that, while you planned to spend the majority of that time with him, you did have other plans in mind. 

Namely, exploring more of the world than just the showgrounds. 

This meant that, for some of the time you spent here, you’d be traveling with Smg1 and 2, for safety reasons. 

Smg3 & 4 could have helped, but, to put it politely, those two butt heads with one another at poor times, and it wouldn’t do for you to be in sudden danger and they didn’t notice until it was too late. 

Which was why, even if you weren’t exactly ‘spending time’ with. Mr Puzzles, you knew that he was going to more than likely follow at a distance. 

You don’t blame him for the worry. 

There was a reason you chose 1 and 2 as help, as once, a while back, you’d been hurt in this world before, and it had been clearly traumatic for him; you…actually didn’t recall to much of it, since it seemed your memory of the incident cut out when the accident occurred until you woke up and wondered why Puzzles was beside himself (almost hysterical) while a few others of Smg4’s group looked terribly upset. You felt that you’d have to ask at some point what exactly had happened…

“Hello.” Mr. Puzzles voice called out to you, breaking you out of your musings. The tv headed man joined you on the patio, and stood before where you were seated on the patio swing he’d found some time ago. “Fancy seeing you here, my delightful partner.” The tv headed man’s voice held a happy lilt as Puzzles leaned over, grasping one of your hands to hold up as he pressed the lower part of his screen to it. After leaving a lingering static zap of a kiss, Mr. Puzzles let go of your hand to sit down alongside you, his right leg bumping into your left. “Does this visit of yours perhaps include staying with me overnight a few times?”

“Hi.” You press into his side, feeling him happily wrap his right arm around your shoulders, while he to traced a few fingers down your arm to your elbow.  “I don’t know, what did I tell you over the phone?” A low chuckle, but no response, so you continued on. “Do you want to join me and Mario on an adventure in the middle of the night? Maybe we can go look for the watermelon man?” You asked in a joking manner, seizing Mr. Puzzles’ left hand with yours as his right twitched on your upper arm overthe plumber’s name.

“My dear…” Puzzles began, a low guttural dip in his voice as he leaned his head over to your level. But whatever he was about to say was cut off when you suddenly pressed the side of your head affectionately to his casing.

“Of course I’m going to stay overnight with my boyfriend.” You told him, sholding Mr. Puzzles’ hand tight while he turned his tv head to enthusiastically nuzzle you in return. 

“No leaving the window open.” Puzzles sighed, briefly halting his affections to let out a theatrical shudder, no doubt thinking of past incidents.

“No open windows.” You emphasize in agreement, giving his gloved hand a sympathetic squeeze as Mr. Puzzles resumed nuzzling your head. 

Neither of you wanted to wake up to Mario just…standing there again in your shared bedroom, just staring at the two of you sleeping, only for the Italian to BLJ out of there to avoid Mr. Puzzles lunging after him with incensed and scandalized noise. 

It had happened before. 

You secretly happened to have a short video sent to you by Mario of said incident, and saved it so that you could relieve it. 

Mario was weird, but he seemed to be invested in helping you compile photos and video clips of Mr. Puzzles (and yourself), which you were actually really happy to have with you when you couldn’t see the tv headed man for a longer period of time. 

[starsoftheeye]

I'm curious and bored. reblog or reply to this with your controversial opinions about epic the musical

I'll go first, I like the teaser of athenas time dive better than what we got in the actual song, I thought it sounded better without lyrics

[bison-appreciation-club]

thinking about the time my grandmother introduced me as 'her grandchild, who's researching chief joseph' and all her friends asked who chief joseph was, so because i had my phone with me and he was (and still is) my lockscreen background, i showed them what he looked like and told them a little bit about his life.

they were all silent for a bit. and then one of them said 'his hair is stupid. if i knew him, i would cut it all off when he wasn't watching and throw it all away' and i just had to look at her like. where is your humanity? where is your warmth? why is your world so cold and empty?

[magnusmodig]

ovo whispers menacingly abt his grandstanding .

[phoenixcatch7]

Cap marvel headcanons I Will integrate into a fic one day but also have Zero basis in canon to my knowledge (this ended up being LONG):

The living lightning is an ancient force akin to the speed force, and the 'true' guardian of magic, being possibly the first 'magical creature' ever created.

The rock of eternity only recently became based on earth, in the past several thousand years, with the planet's deities acting as mountains in the rain cycle - funnels to safely channel the magic back into the Champion. It's a fully symbiotic relationship that benefits the planet and its people immensely.

This means previously the rock has been based on alien planets. Previous champions are ancient aliens, many from species that no longer exist, either because the species died out or evolved into something unrecognisable.

The champion of magic may have inspired the oua (?), the creators and high council of the green lanterns. Ooh maybe an oua was selected as champion, which is how they learned of it!

The living lightning, when not in a mortal vessel, rests in the heart of the Rock in a large brazier, with a smoke lid of white edged with gold in a familiar pattern. It is tradition, or perhaps instinct, for a Champion to light the brazier whenever they visit the Rock. It will be lit for as long as the visit lasts, and be extinguished the next time they come.

Should it choose to take form, the living lightning resembles a washed out combination of each of its previous Champions. Its form is solid and clear, strong and made for battle, but distinctly uncanny. It doesn't leave its brazier, nor speak.

The 'ideal form' of a hero varies all the time, doesn't it? Especially if you're a kid still growing and learning about yourself and the world. Headcanon cap ever so subtly changes features sometimes. Gradually. Height and build changes sometimes. One of the league members has noticed but they really can't prove it to themselves and it's driving them crazy. Billy has no idea.

On that topic, the 'ideal form' also includes the clothes, right? The red costume? If Billy transforms with the intent of doing something outside his normal hero things (ie, attending a celebration), the outfit has every reason and ability to change to reflect that! Everyone expecting cap to show up in his normal gear and ready to throw a formal suit at him to wiggle on over his costume and he shows up in a red and gold set with a little one shoulder cape like 'yeah I have no idea either'.

Cap marvel Is An Adult. Billy isn't, but cap is in every single way that someone could count. This is probably canon but in some fics I think the jl forgets lol. It's still the same soul, just, with an adult filter instead of a kid one. However that filter manifests.

Not sure this is canon too, but the idea of the mind/soul/whatever of cap manifesting as this great impossible mass. A storm, or a tiger, or a barrier of lightning. This giant, untouchable, dormant mass of power and implied Danger™. Again, Billy has no idea. J'onn is eying warily from a very safe distance.

His wiki practically waxes poetic about his abilities and skills in strategy, mathematics, nigh precognition from ability to spot and manipulate patterns. Captain marvel is unbeatable at chess. Batman has lost to him. Billy cannot do fractions and it drives him up the WALL.

The champion, and ONLY the champion, can share his powers. If shazam wants a second champion he has to give a new set wholesale or convince the champion to share. Similarly, those patroned by the champion cannot transform unless the champion is also transformed. Because otherwise that would be too easy for Billy lol.

Every time Billy asks, tawky gives a different canon origin story. Billy has no idea which is true.

Billy's parents died accidentally freeing Adam on their expedition. Probably crushed by rubble :(. The wizard is the only one who knows and really isn't inclined to share, and Adam either hasn't connected the dots or never really noticed they were there.

Cap and Billy love each other, regardless of whatever version their whole thing is. They're the only reason the other remembers self care and that kind of self love, even if he's not sure he deserves it, makes a world of difference with how they portray themselves to the world.

Cap doesn't need to breathe to speak but he never remembers that and has repeatedly choked in water and space. Superman empathises but tries not to find it funny after the third time it happens.

Billy has showed the wizard memes.

The wizard internally refers to Billy as the 'sassy, lost child'. He has a pointy hat like any good wizard but refuses to wear one since Billy keeps asking him to, pretty please.

Cap once won an arm wrestle with superman by pretending to lick his hand. He didn't. Billy would have.

Cap marvel CANONICALLY bites but after the first time he regulates his jaw strength. Thankfully it was Black Adam so no one lost a hand. He had him in a headlock so who's fault was it really.

Ebenezer doesn't have a strong opinion on cap marvel either way. Billy thinks that's almost worse.

The living lightning isn't lightning. It was around before lightning. It is living, however. It is that 'living' that forms the main consciousness of the Champion form, in this case Marvel. Its not sentient or sapient itself, that's the vessel, but it is the building blocks of it.

In dc (again no idea if this has any basis in canon) magic is the fifth state of matter, above plasma. Yes this interferes incredibly with quantum physics and theoretical science. No the magic users don't know how it works either. No they will not help you they have their own research (into the exact same thing) to do.

If the Rock is obliterated cap marvel will die (along with pretty much everything else but irrelevant). However, if he manages to save the brazier, he will continue on. Magic as a whole deal won't be very happy and aeons of magical knowledge and history and artifacts will be lost, but cap will live and can rebuild from the ashes. The brazier is Heavy but enough super strength can move it if you don't mind bringing a chunk of floor. And the rock is so weakened it's literally falling apart but those are the right circumstances anyway so.

[synthshenanigans]

How are you going to include songs from the before in the instrumental polls? As far as I know there aren’t official instrumentals for his older albums. Or has someone made isolated versions of those?

Yeaaa CJ stated in the QnA about how all the instrumentals on the Covered in Discontent & the before. albums are just gone cos there was no reason to keep em at the time.

Like I said in the first poll, there was just some songs that don't have an isolated track to listen to, so you'd just have to listen to the song itself & focus on the instruments rather than the lyrics.

Not the greatest thing I know, but! Those songs have really good music & it didn't feel fair to not have em in it, just cos CJ never woulda known how many people would've wanted those down the line. [since like, 50-80% of his fans came from after the before was already finished]

All this is rlly just to say; bros original stuff are really good & deserve more love lol.

[a-dash-in-the-middle]

Call centers for URGENT CARE AND HOSPITALS are hell on earth

I think talking to the wall might bring better results

[blasphemousclaw]

WHO IS THIS SAULTRY LITTLE BINCH

ok this is my extremely unpolished breakdown of MESSMER THE IMPALER from the shadow of the erdtree trailer

The first thing that stands out about this dude is that he’s wearing EVERY possible symbol of treason against the Erdtree: SNAKES and FLAME

Messmer has snakes on his sigil, helm, and 2 snake friends who have dragon wings. Volcano Manor is known for its statues of winged serpents, but the wings are feathered, not dragonlike. these snakes are bright red-orange and are very unlike the Great Serpent we all know and love, who has a heavier build and is blue-grey in color. 

Regarding snakes as symbolism, the Duelist Helm description reads,

“Bronze helm decorated with innumerable snakes. Worn by gladiators who were driven from the colosseum. The wearer becomes a slightly easier target for foes. The snake is viewed as a traitor to the Erdtree, and the audience delighted in seeing these bronze effigies beaten and battered.”

We can bet that whoever is associating themselves with snakes is a confirmed Erdtree hater (Rykard, hello!!!) or perhaps, this dude could even be part of the reason why snakes are considered traitorous in the first place?

In addition to us seeing Messmer wield fire, this line from the trailer (which I think is spoken about Messmer but not by Messmer) implies that he’s known for his fire: “Those stripped of the Grace of Gold shall all meet death. In the embrace of Messmer’s flame.” 

It’s well known that flame is in many ways a taboo power; particularly the flame of the Fell God, which has the power to burn the Erdtree (the cardinal sin). Messmer’s fire is weird, in some ways it reminds me of the Rune of Death since it starts out black and turns red, but it’s also far too orange to simply be the Rune of Death’s power. 

There’s also this description of the DLC: “The Land of Shadow. A place obscured by the Erdtree. Where the goddess Marika first set foot. A land purged in an unsung battle. Set ablaze by Messmer’s flame.”

I’d guess that the Land of Shadow was the place of Marika’s first conquest, and perhaps Messmer either aided her in razing it or that’s just something he did later? 

so WHO is this dude????

for starters, his name is Messmer the Impaler — M like Marika! Melina, Malenia, Miquella, Mogh, and Morgott. seems to be a pattern...

He says in the trailer, “Mother, wouldst thou truly Lordship sanction, in one so bereft of light?” 

Whoever Messmer’s mother is, she is in a position to “sanction lordship” meaning to give official permission for a lordship to take place. that screams Marika — she is THE goddess, and is responsible for guiding Tarnished to becoming Elden Lord. I can’t think of anyone else who might be called Mother who is in such a position as to allow someone to ascend to the position of Lord. He's also sitting in the same type of throne that the demigods sat in that we see in Morgott's cutscene.

theres 2 ways to interpret this line: 

Messmer could referring to himself when he says this; as if he’s saying, would my mother truly allow me to become Lord even though I’m so dark and edgy?? in a kind of sarcastic way. the flames he produces start out black, and he’s covered himself symbols treasonous to the Erdtree. OR, he’s referring to us, the Tarnished, when he says this; as if he’s saying, would you really let a person with such little light inside them become lord, mother?? (rude!) I’d say we need more context to determine exactly what he means

ALSO, interestingly, his left eye is sealed shut… you know who else has their left eye sealed shut? THAT’S RIGHT… OUR FRIENDS MELINA AND RANNI

The scarseal and soreseal items of Marika and Radagon are also carved into eyeballs… could eye trauma be an empyrean trait?? could Messmer also be an empyrean, one who the current demigods didn’t know the existence of??? 

with all that being said, I really doubt that this guy is Rykard or Rykard’s child as I’ve seen some people speculate… these other clues in the trailer point towards him being another, separate demigod. so what do we make of all the similar imagery?? I think that Messmer might be working against the Erdtree toward his own ends, and he’s embracing similar powers that Rykard did when he turned traitor. 

who is he then? I think he’s a demigod child of Marika, and possibly of Radagon because of the hair (unless his hair color comes elsewhere? a curse?). I think he got banished to the shadow realm for treason reasons, given the heretical symbols. perhaps he was an empyrean with his own agenda who was disposed of by Marika, like the Gloam Eyed Queen? perhaps he has ambitions to return to the real world and become Lord, destroying the Tarnished who might take his throne?

I did this instead of sleeping I hope you’re all happy

[band--psycho]

Sylus x Reader - No Going Back

Main Masterlist / Sylus Masterlist / Join My Taglist

My first Sylus story...Before anyone asks, yes there will be a part 2 to this!

Please be kind; reblogs are always welcome and greatly appreciated!

Thank you all for the continued support and I hope you all enjoy this! 💛

Requests are open so if you have any ideas/requests, you're more than welcome to send them over

I do not give permission for any of my works to be copied or translated onto this site or other platforms

Warnings: Mature themes, mentions of sex , swearing

Sleeping with Sylus was a mistake; at least that’s what you kept telling yourself whenever you felt your memories drifting to him and the night you had spent together not too long ago. 

Sleeping with him was one of the best mistakes you’d made in a long time, but it was a mistake nonetheless; one that you couldn’t risk making again. 

That’s why you’d been ignoring not only his calls, but also Luke and Kierans. 

You needed to put distance between you and the leader of Onychinus; in your mind this was a simple thing to do, you just needed to talk or see him. 

But in reality, this ended up being much harder than you could’ve ever imagined it being. 

You missed him. 

You wanted to talk to him. 

You wanted to be around him. 

You wanted the ‘mistake’ you kept thinking about so often, to happen again. 

You wanted him and being the one purposefully put the distance between the two of you hurt. 

A small sigh left your lips when you saw your phone light up with another incoming call from his number. 

You knew you should just block his number; it would certainly make trying to ignore him easier, but you could never bring yourself to do it. 

For a few seconds, your finger hovered over the flashing green answer button, your heart just longing to hear his voice again even if it was just to hear him say a few words. 

But then  your mind regained control over your emotions, you couldn’t talk to him 

It would just make everything harder.

So you declined the call and tossed your phone onto the couch, in an attempt to avoid any temptation. 

You were going to go out for a walk, in the hopes that it would potentially help you clear your head, but when you opened your door, you were met with the very person you’d been avoiding.

“We need to talk,” Sylus said simply, slipping past you and into your apartment. 

You stood there for a few moments, trying to process what was happening as well as trying to work out what you were going to do. 

You could run? 

But he’d catch you. 

You could stay.

But that came with its own risks.

“I suggest you shut the door, unless you want people to start asking questions,” he continued, snapping you out of your thoughts. 

Run. 

Stay. 

Run..

Stay…

Your heart won the battle. 

You closed the door, trying to persuade yourself that you were only doing this so that no one found out that he was here and not because you wanted to see him. 

You took a deep breath, before turning to look at Sylus, whose rube eyes were fixed on you. 

“You know it’s very rude to ignore phone calls from people,” he pointed out, using his evol to lift my phone from the couch and into his hands. 

Eventhough he hid it well, you could see the hurt in his eyes…that look, that fleeting look of sadness was enough to make you want to break every single rule you’d been giving yourself. 

“You can’t be here,” Y/n said, holding his gaze. 

What if he got caught? 

What if someone found out you two knew each other? 

It was too dangerous for both of you. 

“You’ve been avoiding me, what else was I meant to do?” he asked, raising an eyebrow inquisitively, taking a few steps closer towards you. 

You didn’t answer his question; you didn’t know how to. 

You didn’t know what to say to him. 

So you just remained silent. 

A sigh fell from his lips as he took a few more steps closer to you, all but destroying the distance you knew you needed to keep between each other. 

You went to take a step back, only for your back to collice the front door of your apartment. 

Almost instantly, Sylus took advantage of this opportunity; placing one hand by your waist and the other next to your hand, essentially trapping you between him and the door. 

“Conversations only work if both people are talking sweetie,”

Fuck that nickname. 

Fuck the way it fell from his lips. 

Fuck the way it made your heart skip a beat whenever he used it. 

Fuck him. 

Oh how you wanted to. 

Yo needed to keep your resolve, but that was slowly dwindling away with every moment that passed

“Why?” he asked, his quiet tone making you wonder if he’d really said anything at all, until he repeated himself, “Why have you been avoiding me?” 

There it was again; that flicker of hurt in his eyes that made you want to do nothing more than just reach out and kiss him. 

As you glanced up at him; the words that you’d been pushing to the back of your mind, were somehow suddenly on the tip of your tongue 

You tried so many times to tell yourself that it wasn’t true, to try and push the feelings that you had for Sylus away. 

But it was all a lie. 

You’d fallen for the leader of Onychinus….

You saw Sylus’ eyes narrow in frustration at your continued silence, as another exasperated sigh came from his lips. 

“I’ve been avoiding you,” you started, the sound of your sudden uneasy voice, catching his attention instantly as he waited intently for you to continue.

“Because I’m falling-”

Your admission was cut short as Sylus moved the hand that had been by your head and put it  over your mouth, silencing you. 

He leaned in close, so close that you could feel his breath tickling your skin. 

“Careful, sweetie,” he warned, slowly removing his hand from your mouth before placing it on your jaw, allowing his thumb to run across your bottom lip. 

This is exactly the type of situation you were trying to avoid. 

But you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away from his touch, instead you felt yourself instinctively melting into it. 

“You can’t take those words back once you say them,” he breathed, glancing down at your lips before meeting your eyes again. 

You didn’t want to take those words back. 

You wanted to say them. 

But then a thought raced through your mind; what happened once you did? 

Your internal battle was cut short when Sylus leaned in closer to you. 

What you didn’t know was that Sylus wanted to say those words as much as you did. 

You were staring at him; with those gorgeous y/e/c eyes, not knowing that these last few days had felt like a living hell. 

He needed you, craved you…and not being able to even so much as talk to you, was enough to drive him to the brink of madness. 

And that’s why he was here; risking everything, just to be with you. 

“Touching you was a bad idea,” he smirked, his lips inches away from yours.

“The worst,” you whispered in agreement, feeling how quick your heart was beating inside your chest. 

You knew what you were doing, knew that if you didn’t stop what had already begun to happen, that there would be no going back. 

“We should stop,” you breathed, feeling the last of your resolve completely disappearing. 

“That would be the logical thing to do,” he answered back; his eyes glancing between your lips and eyes again, silently asking for permission to close what little distance was left between you. 

“Fuck it,” you sighed, throwing your arms around the back of his neck before standing on the tips of your roes and crashing your lips onto his.

Tagging some people who might enjoy this:

@xacatalepsyx @book-dragon03 @hiqhkey @fangirlsfandomsss @albert-moriarty-fan @elegantangelenthusiast @worm-in-a-bug @darkphoenix2332 @deathkat657 @xenasolos @tasha-1994 @randomruff @mrs-masen-cullen @okaydokey @the-slytherin-poet @taronyuhunter @reverbsworld @serenitymaria @babygirl-panda19 @themagicafox

[gallusrostromegalus]

Hi Gallus, I just wanted to let you know that your airport posts appeared on the bestofreddittorupdates subreddit. I think you’ve posted before about not being ok with your stuff being posted elsewhere, so I wanted to let you know.

I've decided that the policy is:

Anyone who reposts my content for profit or for a paid job without my permission, like the handful of magazine and blog "Staff writers" I've had to DMCA nuke, can get fucked.

If you want to repost to instagram, reddit, w/e social media where you only get internet points, I don't really mind, but PLEEEEEASE include a link to my pinned post or Ko-fi because weird stories is how I support myself. BestOfReddittorUptates poster, if you're here, would you please link the Ko-fi on the reddit post? https://ko-fi.com/gallusrostromegalus Here's a convenient link and everything.

If you want to do a dramatic reading for your youtube, write an article for your blog or write a stageplay based on one of my posts, where you will make money and/or get a grade for it, Just Ask first? I'll probably say yes, but it's rude when people decide to make stuff for money or school with my work and ask me for "permission" after the fact. Also, please link back.

Fanart or Fic based on my posts is always fine. @me about it, I wanna see and my activity page is a mess.

[pinkdreamcollectorsworld]

Hey besties! Please read!!

We need to have a chat. An important one.

I've sorta been seeing posts floating around on here about speculation surrounding Assad's sexuality.I typically tend to keep scrolling just to avoid discourse since it's personally not my thing to get into. But, I was on insta when I happened across a fan account (story linked below) discussing the comments/dms they are getting asking if he's gay. This also happens to be an account that is followed by people who work on the show. One of them being someone who works alongside assad as a side character on the show (someone can correct me if im wrong)

The Instagram story clearly states that none of the moderators of the account know him personally, nor has he ever divulged the information in regards to his sexuality.

To say that I'm shocked is an understatement. Maybe even embarrassed. Definitely dissapointed.

We as a fandom should not, by any means, be speculating, or be doing ANYY digging about these actors personal lives. That includes reasearching thier family, friends, and/or partners. Thier personal lives, are theirs only. Just like ours. We need to respect the boundaries of the people who not only are nice enough to interact with us (when they can), but also work really hard provide us with our beloved show.

Its okay to enjoy the things that come with being in a fandom like this. Its okay to be interested in the other work they do. Whats not okay is to violate thier privacy in a very public, rude way.

This goes not just for Assad, but for the rest of the cast and crew/showrunners as well.

I enjoy Assads work and can't wait to see what else he does in future projects.

Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk 🙃

(I also have permission to share the story. If anyone needs the screenshot of it I have one if it ends up expiring before you get the chance to look at it)

https://www.instagram.com/stories/assadzcdaily/3442715499721453007?igsh=ZGU0eHAwOTRjNWMy

[angstysebfan]

Not Good Enough

Pairing: Bucky x Plus Size Female Reader Summary: Reader is dating Bucky. Bucky thinks he won the jackpot with the reader, but the reader thinks he can get anyone he wants. A bet then goes a little too far, leaving the reader questioning everything about their relationship.

A/N: Fixed this piece up and changed the story line. Both reader and Bucky are wrong in this one, but I hope you like it anyways. I tend to write toxic relationships because of what I've been through. If you don't like that you can pass by without leaving rude comments. This is my version of therapy. Thanks!

--

You weren’t like the other agents on the team. Where most women in S.H.I.E.L.D or the Avengers are tall, skinny and beautiful. You were short, overweight, and in your opinion “ehh” in the looks department. Though you looked overweight, you were strong as all hell. You always felt like you didn’t belong, but the team always told you did. Especially Bucky.

When Bucky Barnes admitted his feelings for you, you had a hard time believing him. He's proven that his feelings are real, but one thing you think he's lying about is how lucky he says he is that you finally said yes to being his. It's a conversation that comes up several times and you keep saying the same thing.

"Buck, one sexy smirk toward a woman and they would be putty in your hands. I'm the one who should thank whoever brought you to me cause I still don't get what you see."

"Baby, you're the one who could have any man she wants, and you chose me. Trust me, no other woman would ever want me."

You would just roll your eyes and change the subject as it was actually painful to talk about. But one week you had enough and made a bet. A new agent was coming, and you wanted to prove Bucky wrong. You gave him permission, against your better judgement, to flirt. If she turned him down you would admit defeat, but if you won, he owed you a weekend away together.

Then the new female agent, Stacy, joined, and she was gorgeous! Beautiful light brown hair that looked so soft to the touch, blue eyes that drew you in, and a body you would die for. When you and Bucky walked in hand-in-hand to meet her, you couldn’t help but notice Bucky’s reaction to her. You shook it off because you couldn’t deny her beauty either.

"Remember the deal babe," you said quietly, suddenly regretting your choice. He nodded silently and kissed your forehead.

You didn't know this, but he was also regretting this bet. When Stacy was introduced to the team, you automatically noticed her eyes lingered on Bucky a lot longer than anyone else.

Steve brought her down the line to meet everyone one by one, and when she walked up to you, you extended your hand, “Nice to meet you Stacy. Looking forward to working with you.”

She looked at your hand for a moment and then said to Steve, “I thought I was meeting agents.”

Steve’s eyebrows shot up and nodded, “Yes, Y/N here is one of our best. She is one mission away from becoming a full fledge Avenger.”

You smiled at him as she looked back at you, an unreadable expression on her face. “Huh, well, we'll see about that.”

She walked past you to Bucky without shaking your hand. You were honestly shocked by her rudeness. You watch her interact with Bucky and see the flirty fluttering of her eyelashes.

Bucky turned on the charm, which you had to admit, hurt you more than you realized it would.

“Sergeant Barnes, I am looking forward to learning a lot from you,” she said in a sultry voice.

Bucky flushed, understanding her meaning. “Uh, yea anytime dollface,” he said.

Your eyes shot to his face. “Doll” was your nickname. You looked from him to Steve, who just gave you a sympathetic smile.

When intros were done, it was time for dinner. Stacy made sure she sat right next to Bucky, which drove you nuts. Bucky didn’t even spare you a glance when you were forced to sit on the other end of the table. It was like he didn’t even notice you. Not that you blamed him, Stacy did take all the attention in the room. Why did you make this damn bet?

You started feeling very low and self conscious, excusing yourself from the table. You entered your room and quickly went into the shower. You couldn’t help but let some tears fall, thinking you were not good enough for Bucky. Stacy was the type of woman he should be with, not you.

While lost in your thoughts, you don’t notice Bucky entering the shower with you, until you feel his arms around you. You immediately tense when you feel him, feeling the tears fall harder. 

“Doll? You okay?” he asked concerned. You cried harder, holding your face in your hands. Bucky turned you around and held you close, kissing the top of your head.

When you finally calmed down and looked up at Bucky, who had a concerned and sad expression on his face. You step away from him and leave the shower. 

“Y/N?” he called after you. When he made it out to the room in a towel, you were changing into sweats and one of his hoodies. “Baby, please tell me whats wrong?” he pleads.

You look at him with a mix of sadness and anger. “I’m shocked you even noticed I left the table,” you spat.

Bucky is shocked by your words, “What do you mean?” he whispers.

You scoff, “I give you permission to flirt with one woman, and you suddenly forget that you have a girlfriend. Not that I blame you! She's gorgeous, and I’m…�� you stop yourself before you sob. 

“Doll, -” “Don’t! Obviously I am not your “Doll” if you are so okay with calling her that!” you screamed.

Bucky shakes his head, putting his hands through his hair. “I don’t understand what's wrong! You told me to do this! I'm sorry I called her “Doll”. Honestly, it meant nothing!” he yelled getting frustrated.

You ignore him and walk to your bed, pulling the covers up to your neck.

“Fine, talk to me when you’re not acting like this.”

You hear Bucky mumble, before you hear the door to your room close. You lie there for a moment, before you decide that you needed to fix this. He was right. This was your idea, just because you couldn't handle it doesn't make it his fault. Though he's a dumbass for calling her "doll". You get up and open your door, walking next door to Bucky’s room. When you open the door you gasp.

Stacy's in Bucky’s room, sliding her hands up his bare chest and reaching up to kiss him, and whats worse is he is standing there holding her hips in only his towel. Tears completely flood your eyes and you leave the room without you noticing. 

–

When Bucky returned to him room after your outburst he opened his door and saw Stacy standing there. 

“What are you doing in here?” he asked, annoyed.

Stacy looks at him with innocent eyes, “I just wanted to thank you for being so nice tonight. I know I was asking a lot of questions during dinner.”

He gives her a small smile, “No problem, but if you don’t mind, I want to be alone.” he said.

“Where are you coming from in only a towel anyway,” she asked, ignoring his last comment, and stepping closer to him. “uh… my girlfriend’s room.” he stuttered, feeling uncomfortable. 

“You have a girlfriend? Who? Does she know you were flirting with me?” she asked in surprise. “Y-Y/N, my girlfriend is Y/N,” he says feeling nervous.

Stacy laughed for a moment, confusing Bucky, “You’re kidding right?” she asked. 

“No, I am dating Y/N. Have been for over three months. I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong impression tonight, but I'm taken,” he said, taking a step back.

“Oh? Well, if you are flirting with me then you must be unhappy. I can make you feel better,” she said stepping closer, sliding her hands up his bare chest.

Bucky froze for a moment, holding onto Stacy’s waist to stop her coming closer. He felt very uncomfortable since he was only in a towel. She started to lean in toward his face. Finally he came to his senses and pushed her away. 

“Agent, this is unacceptable behavior. I know I gave you an impression tonight and that's my fault but I just told you I'm taken. Get out of my room, now” Bucky barked at Stacy.

Stacy was shocked, but didn’t want to push him any further and ran out of the room. Bucky closed the door behind her wiping his face with his flesh hand. He quickly got dressed and went back to your room, wanting to apologize for everything. When he knocked there was no answer. He opened your door and came in.

“Baby?” he called walking further into the room. He checked the walk in closet and then the bathroom, nothing. When he came back into the room, he saw a piece of paper on the bed. He opened it and his heart immediately dropped.

Bucky,

I guess based on what I saw, I am not as crazy as I thought. Though I must be crazy to think someone who looks like me, would be loved by someone who looks like you. I hope you both are very happy together. 

Your Y/N

Bucky quickly ran out of the room and went to Steve’s. He explained everything that happened, which caused some scolding from Steve. 

“I mean I can’t believe you were nice to her after the comment she made about Y/N when she met her,” Steve said. Bucky shook his head, “I know. I’m a fucking moron, okay? But Y/N wanted to do this bet and it went too far. Please you have to help me find my girl. I need her to know that I…” he stopped.

“You love her,” Steve said smirking.

Bucky nodded and blew out a breath. “Please, Steve. I can’t let her think that I don’t love her. I knew she was self conscious, I should have made sure she was alright,” Bucky said kicking himself.

“Okay, pal. Relax, we will find her. Let’s ask the girls first.” Steve said leading Bucky out of his room.

–

“Ok so you saw Y/N was upset and yelled at her instead of comforting her? You're an asshole, Barnes," Nat yelled at him.

“Yea, I know that already. Please Nat, I need to find her,” Bucky pleaded.

“Plus that was mean to do to Stacy, but she still shouldn't have been an bitch to Y/N," She says angrily. "I don’t know where she is, but, if you got your head out of your asses and think you'll find her faster,” she snapped.

Both men looked confused, causing her to roll her eyes. “Men are morons! FRIDAY please track Y/N and send her coordinates to Barnes and Rogers STAT!” she yelled to the AI. 

The men nodded their thanks and headed out.

Nat watched them leave and then called to the AI. “FRIDAY where is Stacy?”

–

You sat on a bench in Battery Park, staring out into the water. You honestly weren’t sure where you were going to go from here. A part of you wanted to go back to the Tower, but didn’t want to see Bucky or Stacy. You figured by now they were lying naked in his bed together. The image making you want to puke.

“Y/N” a whispered voice said, making you jump.

You turn and see Bucky standing there, relief evident in his face. “Baby, I have been looking everywhere for you.” 

He sits down on the bench next to you, and you immediately tensed, something he noticed. 

He swallowed the lump in his throat, “Y/N, I swear, whatever you saw, was not what you think. Stacy… she… she tried to kiss me and I froze. I-I didn’t know what to do, until I finally snapped out of it and threw her out of my room. You have to believe me.” he said grabbing your hand. You don’t look at him, knowing that if you did, you would crack.

“Why would you want to throw her out? She's perfect for you Bucky. You’re perfect for each other. She knows it, I know it, you must know it.” you say quietly, your voice threatening to crack. "This bet was stupid because it proved how right I really was."

Bucky kneels in front of you, holding your face in his hands, forcing you to look at him.

“Belles, she is not perfect for me? Is she beautiful? Sure, but you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen in my life. I know you're self conscious about your weight and your body, but baby I love your body and I couldn’t care less about your weight because it doesn't matter. You're a strong woman who could kick anyone's ass. I…”

Bucky takes a breath and calm his nerves. “Y/N, I love you,” he says with confidence.

You look at him for a moment and then shake your head. “How can you love someone like me?” you whisper as tears flow down your face.

Bucky stands up and pulls you into his arms. “You're so amazing to me. You don’t care about my past. You only care about who I am now. And as far as how you look, you’re so fucking sexy to me baby! I grew up in a time where our woman had meat on their bones, and that's what I prefer.” he said causing you to laugh.

“Buck, I love you. I love you so much! You mean the world to me, and that's why I was so upset you ignored me tonight. I thought that you finally found someone else that you wouldn’t be embarrassed with. It's my fault for making this stupid bet,” you said. 

“I’m an idiot for tonight. I didn’t realize that I was ignoring you, and I’m so sorry. I should have defended you when she was rude to you, and ignored her. Screw the bet. We were both idiots about that, it wasn't fair to Stacy, even if she is a bitch. However, I do still owe you a weekend getaway, and I promise I will be cold to her from now on,” he said kissing the top of your head. “And you, my love, will never embarrass me.”

You looked up at him, your heart racing in your chest. He leaned down and captured your lips with his. You stepped as close as you could, wrapping your arms tightly around him. When the kiss ended you whispered against his lips, “I love you.”

He smiled and pecked your lips again, “I love you too.”

--

Hope you liked it.

[torikuna]

𝗺𝗼𝗱𝗲𝗿𝗻!𝗦𝘂𝗸𝘂𝗻𝗮 𝗮𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗯𝗼𝘆𝗳𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗱

warnings: mdni, profanity, angst but also fluff lil bit lol, petname (doll), modern!sukuna x fem!reader (he’s around 25-26 yo, reader in early 20s)

your first meeting wasn’t very nice, but memorable. you were in a hurry to run errands, but suddenly you crashed into someone’s back and fell to the ground. you looked up and see a tall man in front of you, looking at you with cold crimson eyes over his shoulder, his hands in his pockets. in response to your apology, he called you a “pathetic, stupid bitch”

after that, you crossed paths a couple of times and somehow found a common language at Sukuna’s initiative. he probably said that you’re a “debtor” now because he forgave you lol

your relationship progressed slowly because it took Sukuna some time to understand and acknowledge his feelings

ofc he won't do that. you’re close to him because “i’m still not tired of you” (his words)

he is a harsh, rude, manipulative, immoral, selfish narcissist

but these qualities partially disappear in him when it comes to you

he always walks around with a frown, cold and emotionless expression on his face, but inside he’ll worry about you

tsundere. ᐢ ̥_ ̫ _ ̥ᐢ…

is something bothering you? he’ll try to comfort you by stroking your head or holding you in his lap with his arms tightly around your waist. but he won’t be able to find the right words, so he’ll just solve all your problems himself

but sometimes he can say something like “brat, calm down, your tears are annoying me.” and leaves you alone

he’s very unpredictable and you’ll have to get used to it.

more about his caring side. he should always be aware of your well-being. are you feeling sick? tell him. are you hurt? tell him. he’ll do anything to make you feel better ᡴꪫ‎

he’s doing this not because he loves you, but because “don’t die, brat, i’ve a grandiose plans on you”

he likes it when your attention is completely focused on him, so he likes to spend time with you

usually you spend dates in restaurants. “get ready, i’ll pick you up at 8pm” and he’ll ask you to wear your sexiest dress so he can show you off

what if someone bothers you? "i’ll destroy the whole world for you." he’ll kill anyone who disrespects you. does this bother you? no, you love it.

actually, i don’t think he’s very jealous and argues with you about this, rather he has boundaries of what is permitted

his eyes are always on you, anywhere, so this “pathetic fucking trash” (men) doesn’t go beyond these boundaries

“did i give permission to touch her?” /he killed him/ㅠㅠ

when he's in a bad mood he'll just take you in that sexy dress to show everyone who you belong to

he’ll fuck you all night, leaving marks on your skin while you beg him to forgive you. your hands are pinned to the bed above your head etc

“you sorry? heh, five minutes ago you didn’t look like you were sorry”, “you’re only mine.. sigh that guy can’t fuck you the way i do. only i can touch you”, “i know you like it.. sigh you needy, dirty doll, just cum for me”

he’s possessive.

the next day it’ll hurt to walk ଘ(|lI.‸.)

he resolves other conflicts with you diplomatically, but sometimes he can be quite rude and impulsive

but this rarely happens, because after this he feels guilty. yes, he knows what guilt is, but he’ll never apologize :)

in general he rarely snaps at you, mostly his attitude is special, he treats you like a princess

while he hates everyone around, you can calmly come up to him at any time and hug him and he won’t mind

and also he protects you from curses, men and rude ppl around you

btw, when at night he pulls you closer to him, hugging you tightly while your head lies on his chest and you feel his heavy and even breathing, it’s not because he likes it, but because you need to be protected (that’s what he calls it)

people around you don't understand how you can date him, he can kill you at any moment. everyone is afraid of him

but not you.

he’s secretly grateful to you for your attitude towards him. you were never afraid of him, you always treated him with understanding and kindness

you’re the one who will show him what love is, you’ll teach him this. it’s “i don't believe in love” and “i’ll show you what love can be” trope <з

he himself doesn’t know what attracted him to you, but he knows for sure that you’re the only person who evokes a storm of emotions in him, making his heart beat uncomfortably fast, awakening feelings unfamiliar to him

and he finds it interesting. he finds you interesting.

[warping-realities]

A Better Brighter Future

A brief explanation, this story is a spinoff of Dalton Academy, you don't need to have read that series to understand this story, but you will miss some references. The themes here are also controversial and I need to remind everyone that just because I wrote it doesn't mean I agree with what's happening! Otherwise, a great read for anyone interested!

Director Horace Johnson wasn’t having a good week; in fact, the week he was having was bloody dreadful. The blonde, skinny bloke, fifty years old, had dedicated a good chunk of his adult life to educating young people, finding that calling shortly after leaving university. A staunch defender of human rights and a proponent of positive education, he faced all sorts of problems with reactionary teachers throughout his career, none worse than Ethan Wood, the former PE teacher at King Richard All Boys Institute, affectionately referred to by everyone in the tiny village of Daffodil-Meadow-Over-The-Hill as Lionheart School. However, after numerous run-ins over the three years he’d been the head of that institution, he finally got fed up with the other bloke's speeches, attitudes, and teaching style, and thanks to an anonymous tip about some dodgy behaviour that led to his dismissal, nearly all the students and many of the  teachers breathed a sigh of relief; that sort of hardline, oppressive treatment had no place in today’s world. The one thing Horace couldn’t imagine was the struggle to find a replacement who shared his progressive ideals, not to mention the fact that he had to deal with the backlash from some conservative parents, teachers, and board members. Just another battle they were fighting; he should have known, it was like that when he banned the posh uniforms or tried to authorise the use of gender-neutral pronouns – one battle won, another lost. But he was determined to come out on top again; he refused to put another outdated troglodyte in that position. A better, brighter future was the motto of that school, and he was going to make it happen.

While he was mulling over these issues, sitting in his office with a good cup of tea, his privacy was invaded. With a loud BAM, the door to his office was flung open, causing him to quickly raise his eyes from the document he was reading, only to see the monstrous figure striding towards him. A black man in his thirties, dressed in a polo shirt, tracky bottoms, and trainers, exuding the brash vibe of a sports coach, swaggered confidently in his direction. He couldn’t remember scheduling any interview, and certainly not with someone so rude, who gave off exactly the impression of the type of professional he refused to hire.

“Sir, I’m sorry, but you’re gonna have to leave this room; I’m busy and we haven’t got a time booked!” he said, standing up and positioning himself beside his desk, noting the absurd difference in build and muscle between the two.

“And since when do old mates need permission to see you, Henry?”

“That’s not my name!”

“I know that, Henderson, you tosser, but if you reckon I’m not gonna use your nickname just because you’re the head honcho of a fancy school now, you’re sorely mistaken. Just wait until the lads on the rugby team find out the Steamroller Henry is all posh now; they’ll be laughing their heads off!”

“Sir, I… I don’t know what you’re on about… I insist you leave!”

“Now that’s the Henry I know, always ready to pull a fast one on his mates.” The man said, slumping down in the armchair opposite his desk. “But enough of the banter, mate. After you got in touch, I did a bit of digging into what’s going on around here, and you’ve got some serious problems. Losing a bloke like Ethan Wood must have been a right kick in the teeth, especially after scrapping the uniforms; they might have been a bit too posh, but they helped maintain a sense of unity and shared identity. Good on you for getting rid of that daft idea of using gender-neutral pronouns. Still, mate, I can see why you need me here. Transforming these crybabies into real men can’t be easy, but don’t you worry; you called the right person!”

“I… what…? I don’t get it…”

“What’s hard to understand, Henry? You need help to rein in this progressive agenda that’s trying to take root here, so you called your old uni mate Blake Ian Garret, The BIG and said, ‘Mate, I need your help with these wankers trying to sabotage me; old Wood is out, I need you for the job!’”

“I… Blake… BI… BIG, then… do you accept?”

“Of course I do, you muppet; it’s exactly what I’ve been banging on about! That whisky you’re drinking is probably messing with your already dodgy brain. I wonder how they let you become a director, Henry; not that I’m complaining, we need more blokes like us in charge.”

“I also wonder how I ended up here; I only became a teacher because that dodgy Wood promised to pass on his job to me when he retired, and next thing I know, I’m stuck in this boring role and now I have to give the job I wanted to an arse.” He said with fake exasperation. 

“Shut it, mate; I know you missed having another real man around here, and while I explain how things work in the place I was working, why don’t you pour me a bit of that drink? I think you’ll love hearing about Dalton Academy.” The man commented, noticing the change happening in Horace Johnson. In a blur of movement, the skinny man’s body expanded in muscle and height, while the wrinkles vanished from his face and his blonde hair started to grow back where it had receded. In less than a second, Henderson “Henry” Johnson found himself grinning, offering a glass of whisky that hadn’t been there before to his old university friend and now professor Blake Garret, The BIG in his realm.

“A toast to the best hire I could have made,” he said, raising the glass to his old friend, who broke into a wide smile.

“To a better and brighter future, indeed!”

…..

The students and teachers didn’t know why they were gathered in the school gym. The summons came from Director Johnson himself, and they knew they had to comply quickly, as the man had a military rigidity about that sort of thing, not tolerating any behaviour he deemed lazy. So, what a surprise it was for everyone to see that it wasn’t Henry Johnson heading to the packed gym.

“Good morning, gentlemen! My name’s Blake Garret and I’m the new PE teacher here at Lionheart. The director Johnson and I have known each other for a long time; we were university mates and teammates, and he’s shared with me his concerns about the behaviour and ideals presented here. This nation is infected, gentlemen. Infected by a parasite called progressivism. Progress should be encouraged, yes, but with proper control, guided by the ideas of our parents and ancestors. Progress for the sake of progress should be discouraged!” He said, striding across the gym floor like a caged beast ready to break free, pausing only to observe the indignant faces of some teachers and a few students who bothered to pay attention to what he was saying. But that was about to change, and it was going to be now. “When Henry told me that the infection was spreading here too, I couldn’t believe it. I said to him, ‘Surely not, Henry, my dear. Lionheart is a beacon of clarity amidst a stormy sea of harmful ideas; the teachers are exemplars of masculinity and manliness, and the students are the pinnacle to which every young man in this nation should aspire; surely there’s no such behaviour here.’ But… but now that I’m here, I see! Gentlemen, my eyes fill with tears at what Lionheart is.” He said, taking another pause to take in the disgusted expressions before finally finishing what he had come to do there. “Tears, yes, tears of pride! For you are much more than I imagined, gentlemen. You are paragons of masculinity, the example of what every man should aspire to be; you haven’t allowed yourselves to be contaminated by the corruption attacking our country from within; you are what gives me hope for the future of our great nation.” He said, resuming his frenetic pacing, and with every step he took, the audience transformed; teachers, students, staff, all expanding in size while ideas and thoughts shrank, casual clothes being replaced by training gear that showcased their muscular and defined bodies, while a powerful funk that only dozens of sweaty gathered men could produce dominated the atmosphere, not that anyone there cared about it.

“That was a brilliant welcome drill, lads; now off to the showers and back to your uniforms for your lessons. Teachers, I ask you to stay a bit longer; I need to know about any absent students today.”

….

Franklin was in deep trouble; he missed the bus to school and had to walk all the way from the village of Grimchurch to Daffodil Meadow, which wasn’t pleasant for a skinny, asthmatic kid. The worst part was that he ended up terribly late for school, and knowing the kind of reception he would get, he thought about just not going, but that would bring even bigger complications, so he decided to face his fate with resignation. He was greeted by the guard, who merely directed him to one of the classrooms where a teacher would speak to the late students and administer the necessary punishment. Sighing with resignation, he headed to the indicated location, but upon arriving, something stopped him from entering the room; some sort of primitive alert resonating within his mind. Peeking through the corner of the window, he saw a teacher he didn’t recognise, a tall and very strong man with skin as dark as his own, talking to Bernard, Vincent, and Timothy, three of the biggest truants at Lionheart, who were looking at him with bored expressions. But then, in the blink of an eye, the unthinkable happened; the boys he had known all his life were replaced by larger, stronger, muscular versions, wearing uniforms and smiling as if they were getting drunk on every word the teacher was saying, words which Franklin couldn’t hear. But then the teacher approached the door, and he could hear the end of the speech.

“… rowing at the end of the day; you lot are to be congratulated, I wouldn’t be surprised if any of you ended up representing England at the Olympics. Oh, before you go, Bert and Victor, you’re in the same class as Franklin Burke, right? If you see him, let me know; I need to have a word with the lad, the same goes for you, Tom.”

Hearing that, Franklin took off running, desperate, not fully understanding what he had witnessed but knowing the risk he was in; he urgently needed to get out of there. In his despair, he didn’t notice that the man had left the room and smiled when he saw a skinny kid running toward the changing rooms.

Franklin thought the safest way to escape the trap he had fallen into would be through the school gym, which should be empty at that hour. Sneaking in as quietly as possible, he finally reached the changing area; he just needed to cross it and head to the football pitch, which would be free from whatever was happening there. But there was a hitch: someone was using the changing room. Quickly hiding behind the door, he saw the stranger swaggering arrogantly through the space. Recently out of the shower and wearing only a jock strap, the muscular Chinese lad strutted as if he owned the place. Stopping in front of the mirror, he admired himself. Who could he have been before? No… no… Lionheart only had one Chinese student. That must be… Anshen? Franklin’s best mate… no… this was a nightmare.

“I can see you there, mate!” said the muscular lad, crossing his arms. “Coach BIG is looking for you. I wouldn’t irritate the bloke if I were you.” He added with a cheeky grin. Having been discovered, Franklin stepped out of hiding.

“Anshen… is that you?”

“The name’s Ashton, Franklin. Honestly, how could you forget the name of the captain of the school swimming team?” he said, acting as if that made him the most important person in the room. Without even glancing to the side, he brushed past that aberration towards the corridor leading to the football pitch.

“Hey, mate, the coach’s office is the other way!” shouted the other lad, but Franklin didn’t pay him any mind. He was running anxiously toward the door that was his salvation. Only to see it swing open and the monstrous giant that was walking toward him with a grin. Between the two giants, he chose to face the smaller of the two and took off running in the direction he had come from, without seeing the smile fade from the man's face or hearing him grumble.

“Don’t know why they run…”

Upon reaching the door of the changing room he had just passed through a few seconds ago, he found it locked. How? Ashton must have locked it. Franklin grunted as he cursed the other lad with every ounce of strength not being used to try to open the door.

“It’s useless, lad. Your fate was sealed the moment you set foot in this school. But you know what? I like you; you’ve got fire in you. Turn around.” The man said with authority, and Franklin felt his body obey against his will. Gathering courage, he faced the man.

“Who are you? What are you?”

“What I am is something to be answered another time. Now, who am I? Frankly, Farrel, that’s no way to speak to your godfather.” Coach BIG replied, seemingly hurt, although a slight tremor at the corner of his lips indicated he was actually enjoying himself.

“What? Godfather? I don’t have a godfather and I don’t even know who you are! And who the hell is Farrel?”

“Farrel is my godson; a lad, strong and sure of what he wants. A man who knows a man’s rightful place in society. He’s a bit of a rogue, the type who’s too smart for his own good, always finding a way to dodge consequences. Except when he’s on the pitch; he’s the captain of the rugby team and takes that role seriously, even knowing his future lies in politics, thanks to the silver tongue he possesses. In short, Farrel is you, you great numpty. Now that it’s just the two of us in my office, come give your godfather a hug.”

“I… what? No…!” Franklin stammered as he felt his legs move on their own and a dreamy smile form on his lips, even as he internally screamed in anxiety.

Anxiety? He never got anxious! At least not off the pitch. There he was a monster, a bull. But off it? Off it, he was the face of relaxation. Chill out and have a laugh was Farrel Burke’s motto! Thought the muscular black giant that few would believe was only eighteen years old. While he put on the school uniform in his godfather’s office, admiring his beautiful body and smiling.

“Farrel? Farrel! Bloody hell, lad, can’t you pay attention for a minute?”

“Sorry, Uncle BIG… I mean… Coach BIG… oops… Professor Garret.”

“If you weren’t my godson, I’d give you a right telling off, lad, and just because I’m your godfather doesn’t mean you can use my office as if it were your personal changing room.”

“If you hadn’t dragged me from the changing room, I wouldn’t need to finish getting dressed here!”

“Is that a dig at my behaviour, lad?” BIG asked seriously, his eyes glinting dangerously.

“No, sir, professor. I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.” The lad replied, sensing the danger.

“Great. As I was saying, I want to implement some of the ideas I brought from Dalton; while you finish getting ready, let me talk to you about the clubs…”

…..

By the end of that week, BIG’s initial work was complete; there were no more students or teachers left to be improved. The uniforms had returned to being the norm, and all the lads were required to be part of at least one of the school’s sports teams. Moreover, the social clubs had been formed, ensuring that the lads, even after school ended, would have a reason to return to Lionheart and not forget what they had learned there. BIG was proud of what he had accomplished, and those above him were too. Now it was time for the expansion phase, to take what was taught at Lionheart outside the school’s walls and fields. BIG’s approach was different from that taken at Dalton; times were different, and in the war they were waging against those who wanted to remove men from their rightful place, there was no room for the discretion adopted by the sister school. Europe was falling too quickly; it was necessary to be more incisive. That’s why Lionheart would focus not only on creating the leaders of tomorrow but a whole generation of influencers, and sport would be their flagship. And there was no sport more popular worldwide than football. Knowing this, the Lionheart team became a priority for BIG, and he created a particularly talented and charismatic group, but they still lacked a coach of the right calibre. But that would soon be resolved, and quickly too; normally, BIG liked to savour the moment he transformed a pathetic figure into a real man. However, as the mass transformation of the first day showed, when the need was pressing, he acted fast. And that Sunday morning, it was needed again. While the lads prepared for training, the stands of the school filled with students from other teams, but also with parents and locals from the surrounding towns. This would be exhausting. And the cherry on top was the old man walking across the field with an angry look directed at BIG, who returned the scorn before breaking into a smile.

Zachariah Hastings, a member of the school board and a staunch conservative, which in theory should please BIG, but the problem was that the old codger was too conservative. Homophobic and racist, he seemed to boil inside the outdated suit he was wearing at that moment. He indeed represented that mythical figure of patriarchy that the snowflakes loved to point out as the cause of all ills: the white, heterosexual, cisgender man. BIG had nothing against a man who was all those things; on the contrary. The problem was that this figure represented everything that the enemies of the brotherhood of men took pleasure in using to attack. BIG’s group merely wanted to return men to their rightful place in society; they didn’t care about race, religion, whether you were an immigrant or who you slept with. Implicating with those things only created divisions, pushing men away from the real goal. And it was precisely for that reason that Zachariah had to go. Without any fanfare or manipulation, in one moment, the old codger was there with a bewildered expression, as if he knew what awaited him, and in the next moment, a fine specimen of a black man, very much like BIG himself, stood in his place, while every man in that audience became an upgraded ally, and BIG enthusiastically announced to everyone the arrival of the legendary Zeke Hastings, newly retired player from Manchester City and multiple-time champion of the Premier League, Champions League, and Euro Cup, to take the position of coach for the school’s football team, sending all the men in that place into a frenzy of delight, while BIG himself smiled, satisfied that the first part of his duty was finally fulfilled.

**Two months earlier**

Barret couldn’t stop tapping his foot while waiting in the posh waiting room of Dalton Academy; after all, this was his big chance, even if he didn’t understand why an American school would be interested in an English literature teacher. Although the whole place reeked of Old Money, perhaps that justified the interest in him.

“You can come in, Mr. Garret.” A metallic voice startled Barret, who looked around for the source, but found none. Collecting himself, he stood up, straightened his suit, and opened the massive door to the office. What he saw there gave him a sense of strangeness. Smiling and walking towards him in a space much larger than would be possible, was a handsome lad, no more than eighteen years old. Was this some sort of prank by the posh students?

“Come in, Mr. Garrett. Barret Garret; your parents had an interesting sense of humour; I would have certainly liked them…” commented the smiling young man before frowning. “Why the scared face? Ahhh, I always forget these modern conventions; in my day, this would already be the appearance of an adult man.” The young man said, his face concentrating, and then, as if by magic, he began to walk towards an office desk that Barret could have sworn hadn’t been there seconds before. When he reached the desk a blonde, older, and muscular man wearing a slightly less formal outfit smiled at Barret. 

“I think you’ll prefer this appearance, my dear. You can call me Mr. Edgar. And even though I’ve used a bit of trickery to bring you here, since unfortunately there’s no place for you on Dalton’s faculty, by the time we finish our conversation, it’ll be as if you know the place better than you do yourself, and I guarantee the goal I have in mind for you will leave you quite satisfied. Put a smile on that face and step in.” Even against his will, in that incomprehensible situation, Barret found himself smiling and stepped into the creature’s lair.

If anyone who wasn’t an active member of Dalton was watching what was going on, they would have been shocked. But within those walls, it was almost routine. A young, well-dressed black man hesitating in front of a portal, only to, upon crossing it, see his body modify and expand, while he aged a few years, though that only made him even more charming; his slow steps transforming into the confident stride of a man who knew exactly what he wanted. And anyone who knew Blake Ian Garret, coach BIG, could tell that that impression would be correct, though incomplete. BIG not only knew what he wanted but would also do everything in his power to achieve his goals. And those goals at the moment consisted of returning to England to find a way to occupy a position at Lionheart School, which conveniently was established on top of one of the largest dormant power points of the old country, but which only needed a spark to awaken. A spark that Mr. Edgar handed to him, only demanding in return that he use that power to ensure that the occupants of the place, both the established ones and those who would come, and even the unsuspecting traveler passing through, became the right kind of men. The exact type that BIG himself represented.

….

**6 months later**

“Son, I’m sure it won’t be as bad as you think. I survived high school; you will too.”

“Yes, but you didn’t have to be transferred in the middle of the second year to a school with the highest concentration of wanker athletes that would have certainly made your life a nightmare.”

“Duncan, I understand; I was transferred as well, remember? I need to make friends at work too.”

“Dad, that’s completely different; none of your colleagues are going to shove your head in a toilet or anything like that.”

“I’m sure that only happens in films, Duncan.”

The pair of overweight blonde father and son walked through the corridors of the Lionheart Institute towards Director Johnson. The truth is that even Alex, the father, was not comfortable with that arrangement, but there was nothing to be done; Lionheart was the best school in the area, and he refused to send his son away from him. Duncan was a shy and reserved kid, just like he had been at that age. That school would be a challenge, but any other would be too, and there he would be close by if something happened.

“Dad, didn’t you read the articles I sent you? This journalist, Aaryan Patel, wrote a series of them talking about what goes on here; all the students here, regardless of where they came from, are some kind of athletes; some have even competed in the Olympics. And there’s more; all of them have behaviour described as toxic; some have been banned from giving interviews; some bloke named Ashton Zhang won a bronze medal in Paris but said so much rubbish about the opening ceremony that he almost got banned from competing.”

“Well, then they’ll know what it’s like to have a mathlete among them now! And who knows, you might become a good influence on them or even get motivated to take up some sport; exercise does wonders for a young lad.”

“Says the man who’s never set foot on a court in his life…”

“Duncan, enough! You’re coming to study here, and that’s final.” The father snapped, as he noticed a giant figure approaching confidently down the corridor.

“But Dad, I think Aaryan Patel has a point…”

“Duncan! I don’t want to hear you talking about Aaryan Patel anymore!”

“You do quite well.” Commented the giant black man approaching them, his smile vanishing upon hearing that name. “Mr. Patel has only been defaming the good name of this school with lies and distortions, when what he should be doing is praising the performance of our students in all areas of life. I’m Professor Garret and I believe you are Archibald and Duncan, am I right?”

“In fact, my name is Alexander…”

“Ah, some misunderstanding then.” Commented the professor with a cheeky smile before continuing. “Director Johnson should have welcomed you, but he had a slight hiccup and asked me to do it for him. I thought I’d chat with you, Archibald, while one of the lads shows Duncan around the school. Where is that rascal? Ah, here he comes.” Professor Garret finished speaking without giving Alexander a chance to correct him about the name error, although he himself had forgotten it when he saw the lad strutting down the corridor, almost like a mini version of the professor. Although saying that anything about that lad was mini would be an affront. Broad shoulders and strong limbs pushing the limits of the school’s smart black uniform, made up of a full suit, tie, and dress shoes that must have been tailor-made to fit the boats that were his feet, the overall effect was one of sophistication but also of dominance and confidence that left Alexander gaping and Duncan, who was already fearful, completely terrified.

“Good day, Coach BIG… hum… Professor Barret; good day, sir.” The lad said politely, although a mischievous sparkle danced in his eyes.

“Farrell, my boy. Would you be so kind as to show the school’s facilities to Duncan here while Archie and I have a chat?”

“With pleasure, Professor Garret. Would you be so kind as to accompany me, Duncan?” He said, positioning himself next to the other lad who, although overweight, was shorter and lighter than him, before turning to Alexander with a cheeky grin. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Archie.”

“The pleasure was mine, lad.” replied Alex, again forgetting to correct the name error. “We’ll see you in a bit, Duke.” He ended up saying to his son, who looked at him first with wide eyes of pleading and then in surprise at how his father had called him. But there was nothing to be done, for at that moment the muscular giant lad took him by the arm and carried him down the corridor, while his father walked away in the opposite direction, chatting amiably with the behemoth that was Professor Garret.

BIG entered his office and sat down at the desk, although he hadn’t asked Archibald to enter, apparently lost in his own thoughts.

“So, Archibald Dunhan, that name doesn’t sound unfamiliar to me.” Commented the professor.

“Well, it’s not exactly a common name these days.” Archibald replied, accepting the name as if he had always used it.

“No, it’s not… Archibald, Archibald Dunhan, Archie, Archie Dunhan! But of course! Wall Archie! You could have been a legend at Arsenal, material for the England team, if it weren’t for that nasty injury in that game against Manchester City; but from what I know, your career as a player agent isn’t going too badly.”

“I… I think you’re confusing me with someone.” Archibald timidly replied, still standing at the door. Just the idea of thinking of himself as a former footballer was hilarious. Although he was indeed a die-hard Arsenal fan and risked a few matches with his mates on weekends. No, not that…

“No, I’m not mistaken; you were a leak-proof goalkeeper, you were a wall indeed, Archie; don’t let something that wasn’t your fault bring you down.”

“That accident ruined me, mate…” Archie found himself responding automatically. What the hell was he talking about?

“I know, but managing guys like Haaland and De Bruyne is also a success story. You should be proud of yourself.”

“Believe me, no one has ever accused me of being too humble!” Why would he say something like that???

“Then we’ve got the same problem!” replied Garret, bursting into laughter, and Archie joined in, unable to contain himself, stopping with a startled look only when the other man spoke to him again.

“What are you doing standing there, Archie? Come in, come in; we’ve got Duke’s future to discuss.”

Hearing that name stirred something in Archie; there was something very wrong with all of this, but then he took a step into the room, and everything changed. In a blur of movement and colour, his muscles expanded, height increased impressively, and fat seemed to evaporate from his body. When he stopped smiling in front of the other man, any trace of humility or shame had left his body. He was one of the most successful sports agents in the country; there was no reason to worry about that sort of thing.

“BIG, you’ve got 5 minutes to convince me to bring my son to this school, mate.”

“Archie, you know me you wanker; I can do it in three.”

….

“Take a seat, chubby; I’m not going to give you a hard time.” Said the muscular black lad to Duncan, although he clearly was already doing that. The moment Duncan’s dad and the teacher left their line of sight, Farrel dropped the politeness, throwing aside all false pleasantries, revealing himself to be exactly the type of person Duncan believed and feared he would be. He didn’t show anything Duncan might find relevant about the school’s facilities, leading the lad through some of the many sports facilities on site. They had courts for all sorts of sports imaginable, gym equipment, swimming pools, running tracks, and even a complete weightlifting gym. After the exhausting tour of Jockland, they finally arrived at the spacious and luxuriously furnished room where they were.

“I’d rather stand, thanks.” Duncan said, approaching the window of the room, which overlooked the well-kept football pitch of the institution.

“You know best, but carrying all that weight can’t be good for your knees.” Farrel commented venomously, as he took off the top part of the school uniform with no ceremony and flopped down on the sofa in the room. “But that won’t last long; BIG will have you sweating off all that flab in no time.”

“I wish you’d stop making comments about my body.”

“When you’ve got the physique of a real man, I’ll stop, chubby. And trust me, you will; in no time, no one will recognise you, not even you.”

“I’m fine as I am; I don’t intend to change anything.”

“As if anyone here gives a toss about what you think, lad. I repeat, soon you’ll be one of the lads at Lionheart and won’t even remember the wimp you are now. And even if you did, you’d be ashamed of what you let this society do to you.”

“I won’t let myself change; you can do what you want with me, humiliate me, torture me; I won’t change.” Duncan replied, feeling an uncharacteristic rage and turning from the window, seeing for the first time Farrel’s bare chest, which made him blush deeply, while the other lad shot him an intrigued look.

“Seeing something you like, chubby? You a queer or something? Not that I have a problem with it; It’s an all boys school after all, and the lads have their needs. Besides I know what my body does to others." He said, flexing his powerful muscles as if he was at some kind of obscene show, which made Duncan look back at the window, only turning around when the other spoke again, hitting the target this time."No, no… it’s a different kind of desire, isn’t it? Ever thought about having a body like this? Ever wished for muscles like these?” He conclude, looking distracted for a moment, as if he were reliving an old memory.

“I don’t need that; I’ve got my mind, and it’s more powerful than any bulging muscle.”

“Loooser! I wish I could record this and show it to my new bro when he comes out of you; it’ll surely make him die of embarrassment.”

“I… what?”

“You know where we are, Duke? At the headquarters of one of the Lionheart clubs, my club; not just anyone gets in here, but I decided you’d be one of the lucky ones. I’m the captain of the rugby team and would love to have you with us, but the boss has other plans. Speaking of which, you know what’s even more curious? The club is located exactly one floor above Coach BIG’s office. An office that has a direct exit to the football pitch. That exit, I believe, must have been used quite recently, so while you’re at the window, tell me what you see.” Farrel asked, his eyes sparkling and his voice filled with an uncontrollable mix of eagerness and excitement.

Without really knowing why he was obeying the other lad, Duncan looked outside, initially seeing nothing of note, but then his gaze landed on the pitch, and what he saw shocked him. Professor Garrett, who at that moment should have been with Duncan’s father, was walking across the pitch, bare-chested and laughing animatedly with a blonde man who was just as monstrous and muscular as he was. But if Garret was there, where was Alexand… Archibald?

“I don’t get it? Where’s my dad?”

“With all that talk about intellect, I thought you’d be smarter, Duke.”

“My name isn’t…”

“Duke!” Duncan read the lips of the gigantic blond man more than he heard him speak as he waved vigorously, beckoning him to join him and Garret on the pitch. Why would a complete stranger act that way? Unless… unless he wasn’t a complete stranger.

“No… it’s impossible…”

“Finally, you got it, chubby, although I think this will be the last time I can call you that.”

“No… dad?” Duncan asked, although the man who continued to wave excitedly couldn’t hear him. “What did they do to you?”

“Oh, old BIG has a thing for The gentlemen’s sport; even though he’s never been a pro himself. I’d say we’d put you on my team, and that would be that. But for a former pro rugby player, he doesn’t value us much. He says nothing gets as much visibility as football, and our team is about to lose the captain to a contract, and we still don’t have a worthy replacement. Plus, the old rogue managed to create a connection with someone who can get him the best seats at the games.”

“I don’t understand…”

“You don’t need to understand, Duke; you just need to accept.”

“I can’t accept this… I won’t accept this…”

“Duke?”

“What!?! He screamed back, enraged in response.

“Come over here, mate.”

“I’m not your mate, mate!”

“Of course you are; you’re my little bro; me and Ash were looking forward to finally having our little brother with us! Farrel, Duke, and Ashton, best mates. FDA, like the American agency, and like them, we run the bloody show! F for a lot of food, D for drugs to grow and an A for, shit what is the A again? Let it be A for awesome because that's what we are, mate!"

“I…”

“Think about it, Duke; you want to make your dad proud.”

“Yes…” he replied, shivering at hearing that.

“Then get your arse off that window and come with me to meet him; for you, I’d even play a match of football just to see the old geezers eat dust.”

“Haha, I want to see you try to score on my dad, F! The bloke’s a wall; not that he can stop his son from scoring.”

“That’s what I want to see; let’s go, then.” Farrel insisted, and Duke finally took a step back and went to meet his fate. In an instant, the fat seemed to be sucked from his body as his muscles expanded into a strong and toned physique, far from the giant muscle mass of Farrel or his father after the forced retirement and years dedicated to bodybuilding. A slim and strong body, except for the long, powerful legs with thighs capable of exploding a watermelon if it were squeezed between them. His unkempt hair giving way to a well-groomed cut, the sad, chubby face transforming into a beautiful, almost angelic face, but still unable to completely hide the mischief within him, easily identified by the cheeky smile playing on his lips at that moment.

“Don’t know why you’re so excited, bro; with that size, dribbling you will be the easiest thing in the world.”

“Watch what you say, scrawny boy.”

“This is definition, something a ogre like you will never know what it is.”

“Come talk about agility when you compete with me in rugby.”

“And why would I stuff myself into a game with a bunch of lard arses?”

“Who are you calling fat, punk?”

“Not me, your body mass index.”

“You’re getting quite cheeky there, lad. I want to see you crack jokes on the pitch.” Farrel replied with false irritation.

“When I get past you, you won’t even notice, chubby!”

….

Aaryan Patel was absolutely fuming; he had no idea why his boss at the Independent Herald had sent him from London to that conservative hellhole that Daffodil Meadow had become. And to top it all off, he was heading straight to the epicentre of that rubbish, the King Richard Institute for Boys, aka Lionheart School. A place he had written a series of scathing articles about in recent months, which didn’t mean he wanted to walk into the lion’s den, especially when it was the lion himself who had sent the invitation. But his editor insisted it was too good an opportunity to pass up, and now here he was, walking purposefully along the edge of the grass on the school’s grand football pitch towards Director Johnson, who was at that moment in one of the few empty stands. Apparently, it was a tradition for the school and the surrounding villages to gather every evening to watch some sort of competition from the different teams, and today it was a football match. What didn’t make sense was the question Aaryan kept asking himself: why the hell did Henderson Johnson make him walk across the pitch where the students were parading around with their muscular bodies on display while the school staff prepared everything for the match?

As Aaryan made his way to his destination, he passed two muscular black blokes wearing the infamous light blue polo shirt of the sports team, one of whom was much bigger than the other. The one he wanted to take down the most. However, when the larger man glanced at Aaryan as he walked towards the nearest entrance to the stands, the lad who considered himself a brave man felt his knees go weak. Feeling angry with himself as he watched the two lugs burst into laughter, Aaryan quickened his pace and climbed the stands to meet Director Johnson.

“Mr. Patel, it’s a pleasure to meet you in person after reading the rather vehement words you used to describe me, my school, and my students.” The man said with a threatening smile. But Aaryan wasn’t going to let himself be intimidated; he was indeed brave, and although he was much leaner than the brute, he wasn’t a total wimp; he could handle whatever the other bloke had to throw at him. And any words spoken would receive an appropriate response from his sharp mind.

“Vehement is an appropriate but incomplete description of what I have to say about this place, Director Johnson. And that description could also be applied to the behaviour of the people here, although belligerent might be a more fitting term.”

“And you know a thing or two about belligerence, don’t you? Big guy like you? Bet you’ve had your fair share of scraps, haven’t you, Aaron?”

“The name’s Aaryan! And I prefer to fight with words.”

“Ha, I knew there was a fighter in you; I never miss.” The man commented as if Aaryan's response had been completely different, leaving the journalist confused for a moment. Quickly shaking off that momentary confusion, he turned back to the giant blonde.

“So, Director Johnson, what’s the purpose of summoning me here? And summon is the right word; my editor informed me that you pressured him quite insistently and intimidatingly, I should add.”

“Right, lad, I just wanted you to see for yourself what it’s really like here, what you’ve been so harsh about. You might not realise it, but what you write affects people’s lives, people I care about; my staff and my students.”

“Forgive me, Director Johnson, but the actions of those people you care about affect many others’ lives.”

“You paint us as monsters, Aaron, but do what I asked you: roam about, chat with my students and teachers; there’s one teacher in particular who’s quite eager to have a word with you.” The director said, smiling and nodding towards the pitch where Blake Garrett was watching closely as Zeke Hastings paced back and forth, correcting both teams’ players’ positions.

A chill ran down his spine at the thought of talking to that man. Forgetting to correct the misuse of his name, he responded to the director.

“Alright, I’ll do that, but I don’t think anything will change my mind. I’m sure the teachers are lost causes by now and the students are probably already conditioned to the behaviours taught here.”

“We’re not a cult, Aaron, but if you want a fresh opinion, why not have a chat with the centre-forward for the black team? The blonde lad in number 9. Duke has been at the school for less than a week; see what he has to say after the game.”

“I know how to identify a centre-forward, thanks! And I think I’ll do just that; cheers!” replied the journalist, who until a few minutes ago certainly couldn’t identify any positions.

After chatting with some students and teachers who repeated the same toxic spiel about masculine values, manliness, and the rightful place a man should occupy in society, Aaryan felt drained. Coming here had certainly been a bad idea. He thought about leaving and writing another scathing article about the evils of that place. However, he realised that the game had finally come to an end when he saw the blonde centre-forward walking to the edge of the pitch, opening a bottle of water and taking a long swig that practically emptied the bottle in one gulp. As Aaryan approached him, the lad poured the remaining water over his sweaty hair, then shook it off vigorously just as Aaryan reached him.

“Good afternoon, lad; my name’s Aaryan Patel, Director Johnson told me I could have a word with you.” He said, moving closer to the lad and using an authoritative figure as a reference to ensure the lad paid attention; he had dealt with many of those arrogant lads in the past couple of hours to give the kid a chance to mock him or simply ignore him.

“Eh?” The lad huffed, flexing his muscles and shaking the soaked t-shirt. This was pretty much the expected behaviour from any football player giving an interview after an hour and a half of strenuous exercise. What Aaryan, as any good fan of the game, should have remembered. So he repeated the information to the lad.

“My name’s Aaryan and you’re Duke, right? I want to ask you a few things about the school.”

“Sure, mate.” The lad replied, looking more awake after taking off his shirt and showing off his powerful physique, even though it was clear that not much was going on upstairs. This diminished Aaryan’s hopes of getting any productive conversation, as it was obvious the lad belonged there. Still, he decided to press on; when in Rome…

“So, what do you think of the school? Settling in well?”

“Aaron, mate, this place is brilliant! I begged for nearly two years to come here, but my dad thought I’d have better chances of getting signed if I kept training in a bigger city. It was only when Coach BIG took over the sports department that he was convinced.”

“Um… just out of curiosity, who’s your dad?”

“Haha, as if you don’t know who he is, Aaron, mate! I’m not some little kid to fall for your tricks.” The lad replied, giving a thumbs up.

“What are you on about?” Aary… Aaron asked, confused. But then something worse happened; the lad turned to the middle of the pitch where his teammates were milling about, shirtless, chatting and joking under the watchful eye of the coach, who was in turn under the direct supervision of the head of the sports department, the infamous BIG, who was precisely the person the lad was addressing.

“Oi, Coach BIG! Come meet my mate, Aaron.” And to Aaron’s horror, the man who instilled all his primal fears turned to him, serious for being interrupted, but soon a mischievous grin spread across his face.

Strutting towards the two with all the arrogance in the world, looking at Aaron with the same gaze a lion gives to a gazelle before it attacks, making Aaron’s knees tremble… but why? He should respect the bloke, of course… but no matter how big he was, Aaron could handle him… how? Certainly not with words… hey… what was he thinking here? What intrusive thoughts were those? However, he had no time to fight against those ideas so contrary to his essence because at that moment, the coach was standing before him, eclipsing everything else with his immense physical presence.

“Aaryan Patel, the man of the moment! You have no idea how much I wanted to meet you!”

“It’s Aaron… sir.” He added. The respect for the figure of coaches ingrained in him wouldn’t allow him to respond any other way. But why so much respect?

“When young Duke told me he knew you, I couldn’t resist the idea of bringing him here. But where exactly do you two know each other from?”

“Eh… what?” He had just met the lad, right? But then where did the memories of him teaching the kid fighting positions come from? Fighting? What fighting? In the midst of his confusion, it was Duke who answered.

“It’s my dad’s agency that looks after Aaron’s career, coach. In fact, he’s been following Aaron from the beginning; he’s spent more time at our house than at his own over the last few years.”

“Oh, of course. A cunning man like Archie wouldn’t let a talent like that slip through his fingers.” Agency, what agency? Big-name journalists needed agents, but a rookie like Aaron… mate, in his world, even rookies needed a decent agent; it was the difference between a million-dollar career and retirement in the gutter, and Wall Archie was the best; after all, he had experienced firsthand how cruel that world could be. Yeah, the world was a cruel place, and it was his duty to expose those ills… No, not that, what he needed to do was fight… yes, fight for improvements in society… mate, society was what it was and that was that… in this life, you either lose or win, and Aaron Blink Patel, rising star of the heavyweight MMA scene, was born to win. He earned the nickname for the short time he needed to take down opponents. Which was almost the same amount of time he dedicated to interviews with journalists. He didn’t need many words in his life, being known for keeping his opinion to himself, aware of what the media vultures could do to his career. The only time he expressed his opinions was when he was with his friends, when he let out all the intensity inside him, in conversations filled with cheeky banter and heated praises of masculinity in today’s world. And if there was someone who was the ultimate representation of masculinity, it was Aaron Fucking Blink Patel!

“No… no…”

“Aaron, mate, it’s all good?”

“Of course it is, Duke; it’s just the fighter inside him manifesting, but now it’s just a matter of a blink and it’ll all be sorted.” Coach BIG commented.

“Just a blink…” Aaron grumbled, and then… blink… and… his toned, lean torso expanded like a flower blooming, if flowers were made of huge, protruding muscles and their scent was an animalistic musk, with a touch of spices that didn’t go unnoticed even in that place full of sweaty young men… blink … and his legs exploded in size and power needed to crush opponents… blink… and the years dedicated to reading and research evaporated, replaced by training in jiu-jitsu, boxing, and Muay Thai… blink… and all the pent-up rage inside him flowed out in flowery words in sharp texts, concentrating in the massive paws that were his fists and feet… wink… and Aaron Blink Patel found himself smiling at the man and the lad before him, an image seen only by those the fighter deemed worthy. But he’d known Duke since he was younger than the kid, and after hearing the glowing praise he gave about his new coach, the man earned Aaron’s respect without needing to lift a finger.

“Sorry, what were you saying, sir?”

“You can call me Coach BIG; Aaron is what everyone calls me.”

“Yes, sir.” He replied, causing Duke to burst into laughter.

“You’re a lost cause, mate.”

“Actually, I think Aaron is a great example to follow; I wish my rowdy students had his level of respect.” Coach BIG commented, his voice cutting, making the lad’s smile fade instantly. “By the way, after I speak to the team, I’d love for you to have a word with those rascals, Aaron. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a motivational speech to give. Duke, keep him company while I’m at it.”

“Yes, coach, sir.”

“See? Just your presence has instilled some respect in this cheeky little sod.” The coach commented before returning to the pitch to address the teams.

“Could you not be such a teacher’s pet, mate?”

“I only got where I am because I respected my coaches and your dad; authority figures are there to be respected. Don’t you want to be captain of the team? Don’t you want to be a pro one day? You could already be playing for a real team if you had a bit more discipline since talent isn’t lacking. Take advantage of that man.” He said, pointing to the coach who was animatedly giving a speech. “BIG is a legend, a legend capable of making other legends; it was a scandal to find out a man like him had moved to the States, but the results he achieved with Dalton’s teams speak for themselves. And he brought in fucking Zeke Hastings to train you lot, and your dad to manage those of you who are truly capable of going pro. So yes, listen to what your coaches have to say; you may think it’s just theatre, but it’s the attitude that separates the men from the boys.” Aaron finished, flexing his powerful muscles to the point where the polo shirt he was wearing ripped under his arms.

“Wow, mate! That’s wicked! You’re a beast!” Duke said with such genuine admiration that Aaron couldn’t help but smile and repeat the feat, tearing his shirt even more before returning to a serious demeanor and looking at the younger lad.

“And you know how I became who I am today, little brother? By listening to all the shite my coaches had to say to me!” He said, pointing in the direction of Coach BIG, who was just finishing his speech, raising his voice so that everyone on the pitch and in the stands could hear him easily.

“… because this society wants to diminish you, weaken you. They want you to believe that being a man is wrong, that being what we were born to be is a shame. But they don’t know the power you carry with you, the influence you possess; many of you will be professional athletes, some already are. You’ll be seen around the world, admired, able to inspire, capable of making our brothers, hounded by our enemies, react, and more than that, you can make some of those enemies see the mistakes they’ve made and bring them back to the right path, and for those who insist on their mistakes, you’ll be able to hit them where it hurts most, where they’ve been hitting us for years, and I’m talking about their children; You will shape and save them because you have the power to correct what’s wrong in this generation, then in they do same with the next. The truth is men, and never forget it, you have power! And we’ll use it to secure a better, brighter future!

[mcflymemes]

ANYONE BUT YOU (2023) PROMPTS *  assorted dialogue from the film, adjust as necessary

you still live at 28 fuckboy lane?

there's a reason why you're alone. no one can trust you.

i still think about the night we spent together.

these last few days really made me realize how much i miss you.

that night at your place, no matter how it ended, it was still pretty amazing.

so... you gonna kiss me now?

you'll always be my rock bottom.

okay, nuzzle my neck. get in there.

we are not together. we were faking it the whole time.

we have to kick it up a notch. make it feel like we're in the ga-ga stage.

you know, i feel really bad about that.

did you catch him measuring his dick with a ruler app?

you scared the shit out of me.

we're getting pretty good at faking it.

it doesn't matter how we found out.

permission to put my left hand on your right buttock?

okay, not in circles. it's not a magic lamp.

are you not wearing underwear?

we do not inherit the earth. we just borrow it from our creatures.

i have a better idea. you just let me do everything.

thanks for being so cool about all of this.

you want a coffee? it's the best n the world.

there's only one bed, but we hung a shower curtain in the middle.

hi. where's your bathroom?

i could have done it myself, but whatever. thanks.

thanks for not stealing my coat.

is that really a two person job?

you would let me die?

they think i'm throwing my life away.

no, that was rude. i apologize to anyone that was listening.

i don't know. i'm not good at this, sorry.

i'm from a different generation.

i'm not talking about love. i'm talking about dick.

all that matters is that we're together.

that's not me anymore. i'm free now. i'm deprogrammed.

no way, that man does not have a heart.

well, that didn't take long.

if i never ask you for anything ever again, can you please just lay off of me this weekend?

let's just have a moment to calm ourselves.

no one cares. no one can see us.

we were on a break, asshole.

either way, someone's lying to someone.

i must have really gotten under your skin.

you used none of those terms properly.

i cannot believe i just said that out loud.

i'm sorry. my life is a disaster right now.

look at this place. it looks like every serial killer reenactment documentary.

no matter how broken something is, there's always a way to fix it.

this whole thing is so new to me.

i don't really like labels, but i like you a whole bunch.

so are you going to ask me out now?

so if we were getting attacked by giant spiders, you would not be able to protect us?

you two know each other?

i'm going to go grab a drink. door's that way if you're looking to sneak out. i know that's your thing.

i'm going to get a drink and toast to never seeing you again.

how crazy is it that we're on the same plane?

why do so many of us feel stuck?

you don't even play tennis.

we're fine if he just stays away from me.

you're such a romantic.

i was hoping you'd come. i wanted to message you, but i didn't know how you'd feel about hearing from me.

they're also a little worried how you're gonna react to all this.

you have a little something in your teeth.

we need to come up with a game plan.

you are so terrible at this.

it's harder than you think.

they know i would never go out with a guy like you.

we just suck face in front of everybody.

you're calling me a fuckboy like it's an insult? i own that shit.

let's just be affectionate. i know it's a foreign concept for you.

you were the one who said there's a thin line between love and hate.

i think it was more of a euphemism for crying alone.

i definitely didn't hate you.

last night was the first thing i haven't regretted in a long time.

i love the weird way you stick your hand down my pants.

[thelov3lybookworm]

Can I request a cardan x reader fic? Anything you want to write! Just gimmi my baby there isnt much of him on this app.🥺

Weeping heart

Summary: Y/n has seen cardan go through lovers like they're wrappers of chocolates. One in his hand before the previous is even in the dustbin.

Now he has found Jude, and she does not know what to do.

•○●⛦●○•

A/n: anon thank you so much for this request! i love you so much for this. It was such a good writing exercise honestly. This is mainly pining, maybe angst.

Also, this marks the beginning of me writing for characters outside of the acotar universe, so I'm very excited

also I didnt tag anyone because the general taglist i have was for acotar.

(i might be down to write a part 2 👀)

(not proofread)

Enjoy!

•○🌑○•

She bit her lip as she stared up at her best friend, trying to contain the smile that threatened to overtake her features.

"Let me see that smile, beautiful." He grinned lazily at her, his dark eyes twinkling under the rays of sunlight that penetrated the thick canopy of leaves above their head. They were currently seated under a weeping willow, hidden away from the whole world outside. Where only the two of them existed, and nothing else mattered.

The place was special to Y/n and Cardan. This was where the two of them would meet all the time, just the two of them, away from their friends and family. In here, they didn't have to pretend, didn't have to act like everything was okay. They could be themselves, and not care about getting hurt.

He leaned closer to her, searching her eyes, his eyes and features softer than Y/n had ever seen before.

"Shut up." She mumbled, but that action had her lips splitting into that smile she was trying so hard to supress.

His grin widened. "There we go."

His hand came up to cup her cheek, his thumb absently brushing her lower lip, his gaze following it with a hungry look. Then his eyes lifted to hers, a question in them.

She dipped her chin almost imperceptibly.

That was enough for him, and he leaned forward, his lips getting closer and closer to hers.

She let her eyes fall shut.

But the kiss never came.

•○🌑○•

She opened her eyes, wondering why he hadn't yet kissed her, and found herself staring at the ceiling of her room.

She blinked blearily, wondering what the hell happened, and then she realised.

It had been a dream.

She closed her eyes again, heaving a sigh as she willed herself to go back to sleep, back to that dream, hoping he'd kiss her before she woke up again.

Of course, that was very nearly impossible.

Because someone decided in that moment that it would be a good idea to knock on her door.

She was certain she knew who it was.

Still she called out, demanding the identity of the knocker.

The answer was immediate. Cardan.

She groaned lowly, dragging her hands down her face.

He didn't wait for her to let him in. The permission wasn't ever needed between the two. That hadn't changed. Yet.

The next moment, he had barged in through the doors, a grin on his stupid face.

She sat up, trying to look anywhere but his face. Heavy emphasis on trying.

"Y/n, guess what happened."

"I am not in the mood, Cardan."

She winced internally. She was being cruel. He had done nothing wrong. It was not his fault he didn't know of her feelings. She had no right to be rude to him, especially when he was so excited about something.

He wasn't bothered by her lack of enthusiasm. He simply plopped down on her bed as she climbed out of it, getting ready for the day as he launched into a story of how after last night's revel, Jude had told him to wait in their bedchambers while she walked into the closet, her skirts swishing around her legs.

How she had retuned without it.

Y/n tried not to pay attention to the details, but she couldn't help it. She had never been able to ignore what Cardan said, never been able to let anything he said go unheard. He had spent nearly all his years being unheard because no one considered him worthy of their time.

She had long ago decided that she was not going to be one of those people.

She heard everything, and her torturous brain created all the images Cardan's words conjured. Her traitor of a heart clenched, but she ignored it.

"That's great Cardan." She said when he finished speaking, and when she looked at him, he was practically glowing with happiness.

Y/n felt guilty for being jealous of the mortal who had everything Y/n ever wanted, but she couldn't bring herself to care when her heart was breaking into pieces everyday.

"It feels like I've waited for this an eternity. Never thought I would get to have Jude in my arms."

She gave him a smile. "I need to meet up with some generals this morning. I need to leave."

He nodded happily, straightening from where he'd been lying on her bed. She watched him walk out of her room, a knot forming in her throat, her resolve hardening.

She needed... she knew what she needed.

•○🌑○•

Jude had her eyebrow raised, and it concerned Y/n how a mere mortal's judgement could make her nervous.

"Tell me again why you want to go on this mission?"

Y/n reigned in a frustrated sigh. "There is no real reason. I just wish to explore the Elfhame more."

The look Jude gave her told her she saw right through the act. But she didn't push the mater.

"There has been rumours of a rebellion on the other side of Elfhame. If you really want to go on this mission, then you need to know that this is an incredibly long and dangerous mission. You'll not only have to investigate the place, but also squash any hint of rebellion you find."

Y/n gave Jude a smile. "Sounds amazing."

"Sure it does." Jude's eyes narrowed as she continued. "If you need more time away to, as you say, to explore, then after you finish this quest, have a tour around Elfhame and meet up with people who have associated with Madoc before. Make sure they are not plotting something behind our backs."

Y/n dipped her chin in a nod. "When can I leave?"

"Before the week ends."

"So does that mean I can leave right now too?"

If possible, Jude's eyes narrowed further and she stood. At that moment, the door behind Y/n opened, and she stiffened as the smell of his perfume reached her.

"Y/n! I thought you were in the meeting with the generals. What are you doing here?"

Y/n smiled stiffly, turning to look at Cardan.

"I had something important to discuss with Jude." She gestured with her hand.

Cardan nodded, as if that was the most understandable thing in the world.

"What were you talking about?"

"Nothing-"

"She is leaving on a long mission-"

Jude and Y/n spoke up at the same time, and Y/n had to resist the urge to smack her forehead.

Cardan's head swung towards Y/n, and he stared at her with wide eyes, his mouth opening and closing, but no words came out.

Y/n turned to Jude, letting some of the fury at her secret being revealed show in her eyes. And then she smiled tightly. "Could you send that list of people and areas where the rebellion is rumoured to be to my room? I need to begin packing."

Jude's eyebrows were high, but she nodded. Y/n bowed, then turned on her heel and strode away, ignoring Cardan and the way he was trying to gain her attention.

As she left the room, she heard him following and calling for her, but she ignored that too.

Just the way she had always ignored her weeping heart, the one that beat solely for Cardan.

The one that was broken beyond repair now.

•○🌑○•